


Always Sunny in Mayview

by whytho



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), Gen, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whytho/pseuds/whytho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RJ photographs. </p><p>Cody is adorable. </p><p>Jeff is a bro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Sunny in Mayview

**Author's Note:**

> this is short but uh
> 
> it's a 
> 
> (also apollosprophet, who i do not know but is cool, talked about this and. they should talk about this more. please. someone tell them that)

Mayview was always sunny on Tuesdays.

It was one of the mysteries of RJ’s town: every Monday evening, rain or shine, the sky would start to clear. At twelve o’clock midnight precisely, nary a cloud could be seen in the sky, and it would remain that way until midnight the next day. It had been like that since RJ's parents went to Mayview Middle School. 

(RJ had once laid awake until Tuesday morning, curled up on their bed, listening to the downpour outside their window. When the rain had stopped, they froze and their eyes drifted over to their bedside clock. It had read midnight exactly, and RJ had shivered in the ghostly quiet.)

This Tuesday was no different.

RJ was lying underneath one of the school’s trees, contemplating life and watching the cloudless sky, when Cody and Jeff bounded up to them. 

“RJ!” Cody said, as boisterous as ever. “What’cha doing?”

RJ looked at him for a few seconds, hard and fast, muttering, “Nothin’.”

Cody opened his mouth to speak, but apparently decided against. He settled down next to RJ, leaning against the rough tree bark, and gazed philosophically up at the sky. “It’s nice outside.”

RJ exhaled. “It’s always nice on Tuesdays.”

Standing next to them, Jeff laughed, awkwardly and out of place. Cody joined in, his laughter sounding high and clear and ringing in the early morning light. 

(RJ didn’t understand why they were laughing. Would Johnny have known why?)

RJ coughed nervously as silence crept in, their hair flopping into their face. “I’ve gotta go,” they muttered, getting up.

“Ah, wait!” Cody cried, leaping to his feet. “Suzy actually sent us over here to ask you for the… what did she call them? The film slips?”

“The memory cards,” Jeff corrected. He itched his ball of hair nervously, waiting for RJ’s reaction.

They shifted on their feet and shoved the hair out of their eyes. “They’re not ready yet.”

“Oh,” Cody breathed. Silence filled the gap between them. “But… aren’t you always taking photos?”

“Yeah,” RJ muttered. “But my good ones are on the other camera.”

Jeff frowned, his cloud of positivity clenching itself together a little. “That can’t be true.”

RJ gazed at him for a second, confused. Had Jeff ever seen their photos? No, never. Not even Ollie did that. They turned their attention back to the sky, mind on the matter. A lone, puffy cloud grazed across it, and RJ unthinkingly snapped a photo of the miracle. Clouds on a Tuesday, that would be something Suzy’d like to see, especially when they were as heavy as this one. It was unthinkable.

“See?” Cody said knowingly next to RJ. Chewing on the inside of their lips, they flicked their attention back to him. “You’re always taking photos; at least one of them’s got to be good!”

Curling tight over their camera, RJ shook their head. 

(Their photos were private and personal. Johnny’s rare smile, Stephen’s tears slipping down his cheeks, Ollie watching his older sister dance, those were for them. Those were the things nobody else could look at. The only time they only took shots for Suzy was when it was of things RJ could look at objectively, without any emotions. School dances, for example. They bewildered RJ; why would anyone willingly go on a romantic outing with someone?)

Yet when Cody smiled at RJ with no hidden meanings and asked, “Could I please look?” RJ relinquished the camera. Blinding them with enthusiasm, Cody began to look through the photos. Jeff flocked to his shoulder and gaped. 

“RJ,” Jeff said, his mouth making a little ‘oh’. “These are really, really good.”

RJ twisted their lips together and said nothing. 

“Hnn,” Cody agreed. “These are amazing.”

That got RJ’s cheeks to flare, just for a second. Quietly, they mumbled, “Thank you.”

Cody looked up and smiled at them. His deft fingers turned RJ’s camera off, and Cody handed it back to them smiling. 

“Thanks,” Cody murmured, biting his lip. His cheeks were morphing into two identical tomatoes. He began walking across the parking lot, saying “I’ll, uh. I’ll go tell Suzy your film thing isn’t ready yet, yeah?”

RJ hummed, breathless, in agreement. 

Already halfway to the school, Cody turned back to RJ and shouted, “And hey! Those were really, really good! C’mon, Jeff!” Jeff stopped gaping at RJ and ran to catch up with Cody, hair bobbing along. 

RJ stared after the two of them as school buses began pouring into the lot, as Isaac O’Connor griped at Max about the eighth grade dance’s dress code, and as Ollie tapped RJ on the shoulder. “Hey, uh, you good? I think it’s gonna start raining soon, we should probably get inside.”

RJ opened their mouth to speak, but closed it again. Wordless, they looked up at the sky and found it gray and heavy, a stark contrast from thirty minutes ago. The air was cool and constrictive on RJ's face. Maybe that was why their chest felt so tight. RJ exhaled slowly, the rain falling gently on their cheeks. Suzy would love this. 

For the first time, it was raining on a Tuesday.

**Author's Note:**

> my tiny babies all of them omg isaac's thirteen he's not a tiny baby anymore nooo..... (also it makes the one fic where isaac gradutes a PREDICTION OF THE FUTURE owoohwoo)
> 
> also: i just want mayview to have some supernatural elements that everyone knows about. like, for example, lisa. who is she


End file.
